Rated PG-13 for Language

I just twisted my ankle and damn it it hurts. I actually exclaimed, "SHIT!" very loudly as the 90 year old sweet neighbor lady passed by. I cringed for a second, more out of shame than pain, but then I thought "yeah, that's right. SHIT! it hurts! Goddamnsonofabitch!" I need to either try to start and censor my dirty mouth or wear it out and wearing it out sounds like more fun. I don't really want my child's first word to be something that would forever label them as "that foul mouthed little thing". I'm sure it won't but these are my fears these days.
I guess all these new paranoias could be labeled under "what the hell kind of parent am I going to be anyways and who's gonna let me get away with this?" I'm sure it's totally natural to feel like this when you're just what... 8, 9, 10 weeks away from bringing a new person into this world!? Jesus. Seriously, time is just flying by and I'm trying, really, really trying not to freak out. I popped a gasket (is that the term?) the other morning somewhat to the surprise of dear, sweet, unassuming J. It just happened all of a sudden. On a beautiful early summer morning with wonderful plans for the day every piece of my body seemed exhausted and anxious and tense all together and my head spun and I thought I'd just crumble. But after talking and talking and drinking some good iced tea I felt much better. I know I need these breakdowns, I always have. They're like the very end of a very long run that I've been somehow going on while asleep and suddenly I wake up and I can't handle it for one more step and somehow I make myself (by not curling up under the covers and escaping the world and those I love) finish the run and I feel so much better (although a little confused to how I got there but certainly a lot stronger).
I think we've both realized now that this is really happening. It had to hit us at some point, although I'm sure the real kicker will be when little babe is actually out of my body and in our arms. So, trying to sell a house and move in the next 8 weeks is probably unprobable and weighing us down with an inordinate amount of stress. We don't want to struggle through another winter, especially when I won't be working as much and our bills will be higher, but we also don't want to miss out on all those important little things people do before a baby comes. Like getting all their tiny little baby clothes ready and organizing and checking off all the essential baby needs. I can't even start to do these things when I think about having to pack it all up and move it somewhere else. So we're going to passively try and sell for the time being and then try it a bit more aggressively after little one is here. That's the plan as of today anyways and I'm able to be more relaxed just not having to think about it. Now, we can hang out in the house and enjoy it and make it more the kind of first home we want for this baby. I still want to move towards Burlington very soon but one day at a time right? We're spending all our weekends there anyways so we'll think of it as a commute for now. A commute to where we live two days a week for fun.

Break's Over...Almost

We had a wonderful vacation full of all sorts of varying experiences and places that make a break memorable. This particular 'holiday' will stick out in memory from our many other vacations we've taken over the past 5 years together for a number of reasons. For one, it's our last long trip we'll take just the two of us for a very long time. No doubt I'm really looking forward to family vacations and sharing new places with this new little person but there's something easy going in two people deciding what to do with their day without taking into consideration all of those essential baby details I have no clue yet about. How many diapers to bring? What kind of clothing? On and on.
I'm thinking wishfully though. This babe is due to be born end of July/early August, my birthday is at the end of September and I'm already planning a trip to Montreal for the weekend. I'm thinking if I just go ahead and plan on doing these things I'll be more likely to go through with them. Instead of, say, not planning anything for the next year and a half and just hoping I get out of the house. That said I know it's a dangerous thing expectations. I'm trying not to have any except that I won't be sleeping for the first few months. Which is why I'm getting it all in now.

I don't go back to my night job for another four days! Fabulous but somewhat boring. This town is not known for it's night life and even if it were I'm not sure what I'd be so interested in doing. People watching perhaps. Oh, like the old days in my big city life. Ah, yes, when options were plentiful and even relaxing at home meant sitting on the roof, margarita in one hand, book in the other and the lake giving me a private light show at sundown. Well, I suppose I wouldn't have a margarita at this point and maybe at 6 months pregnant it would be unwise to climb up on a roof but still. There'd be people walking the streets. I'm lucky here if I get the same shady guy walking past the house with his dog dragging it's foot long cut off leash behind him.

So, what am I going to do here when I have to stop working before the baby comes!? I'm sure there'll be lots of preparation but it's so hard in a house that we're not sure we'll be in for much longer. Start packing perhaps? Oh, life is not so bad in this sweet old house. It's actually quite peaceful. It's certainly quiet. I'll look back to this time when we've moved into an apartment, baby crying, dog barking, neighbors banging on their ceiling with a broom stick to shut the hell up and I'll think "wasn't that peaceful back there in that house?" Someone kick me then. Smack me upside the head and tell me to be careful what I wish for.

For now though, I think I'll walk down to the Family Dollar store to buy some shower curtain rings. Yay! (shiver) Or maybe I'll pretend to read the rest of the New Yorker and sleep this grey afternoon away.

Baby's Coming! Time to Gamble!

I'm so excited... gambling. Ah, yes. One of my ultimately most ridiculous secret pleasures in life. I love to gamble. Back in the day I was the Black Jack Queen. Now I've resigned myself to Powerball tickets and the occasional scratch off. I haven't won yet but I've been brainwashed by the slogan "you can't win if you don't play". It's so true! I can't win if I don't play! I must!

Anyhow, I've brought the little bear in my belly into the scheme. We've officially started a pool tonight at work. So, who wants in!? I haven't even put my bet in yet. I could guess a date but not the sex. I don't know and I really, honestly, don't want to be wrong. Although I know how silly that sounds it's true. I hate the thought of having my first maternal instinct be off. But, for the love of the game I just might have to take a shot at it. So if any of you five people reading this blog want in... let me know. It's a $5 toss in. You can bet on the same day as someone else but only if you guess the opposite sex.

Someone PLEASE Kill My TV (and the neighbors sweatpants)

J and I went to the River Run Cafe in Plainfield for breakfast this morning.. it was mm, mm, good. Grits and cheese and spice and bisquits for me. J had ribs (I'm blocking from my brain that they were actually called 'baby ribs') which I actually urged him to get. When we go out anywhere I want us both to order food we wouldn't normally cook for ourselves which means I dissaprove of his ordering eggs and home fries. I don't eat land animal meat, let alone still attatched to the bone, but I pushed him. He loved them and we both left incredibly satisfied, still tired from a long work week which isn't yet done with him. We returned home for a nap. Ahh, to wake and eat and return to sleep. Life as lazy dogs. I would usually feel bad for spending such a beautiful afternoon this way but I slept in the sunlight coming through our guest room window to feel somewhat connected to the world outside. It was lovely and when I awoke J was off.
So here we are, dog and I, home alone again. We've walked, shopped, read, made a salmon ceasar salad with avacado for dinner and now blogged. It's only 7:28. Time is creeping by. I don't want to watch TV but I so want to watch TV. It's my newest addiction, I desperately need a 12 step. But it's so easy and it passes the time without sleeping and feeling completely depressed. I have to admit I've fallen into this TV trap often lately. I can tell you the names of at least one person surviving American Idol, despite my outward loathing for the show and it's disgusting degradation of it's money generating conestants. I can tell you what happened on the last Grey's Anatomy and House and Cold Case. Eww. I feel grody. But what else to pass 10pm to 12:30am with? How to stay awake for J and zone out after work? I should kill my TV but what would I do then?
I've gone through some clothes. I'm trying to bring a little color and style conciousness to this town. I am not up to date with the latest fashions or attempting to pretend in the least that I am some kind of trendsetter but... please, god, sweatpants are never ok outside. On our walk today dog and I saw way to many of these and they're always grey and baggy and dirty! Why? I think that was the ultimate demise of this town or maybe... since it's big fall as some kind of thriving business center for the region people have just given up. They have nothing but their sweatpants left. Everything else has dissolved or worn away and they've tossed it all onto their porches to show the world "look what we used to have, it doesn't look like anything but junk now but really, it was all quite something." Maybe I'm just being mean. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be I just hate seeing people give up and the town that I live in continue to fall apart despite it's ridiculous slogan "On the Rise!" perpetually mocking itself and the people trapped in it (being me and I don't want to be mocked, see I'm just fighting back).
So, please, I'll plant hydrangeas if I have to in the front yard in a giant SOS to get the attention this place needs. Some kind of fashion mercy army come save us all from ourselves. Kill my TV, clothe the people in real pants and shirts that don't have cartoons characters on them, cart the trash away, paint the houses and rescue those of us who need a little more of a life (that means me!).

Poem for a White Saint Paddy's Day

Snowdrops by Louise Gluck

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know

what despair is; then

winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,

earth suppressing me. I didn't expect

to waken again, to feel

in damp earth my body

able to respond again, remembering

after so long how to open again

in the cold light of earliest spring -

afraid, yes, but among you again

crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

Spruce Peak - The Breakdown

19 Weeks!

The Beast Emerges

So we hiked Spruce Peak yesterday! 19 weeks and 2 days pregnant and realizing, sadly, my body is not in the same kind of pre-preggers shape I imagined it was. It was a gorgeous day and we dedicated it to the outside world, somewhere, anywhere. I actually suggested Mount Worcester which we didn't make up to the top last January when I had been running every other day! I have dreams of running and biking for miles and miles and I've allowed myself the dissalusionment that the only reason I'm not doing these things is because it's been 20 below. Otherwise, I'd be running the marathon this May! But I broke down 3/4 of the way up just like I used to do when J first started getting me to hike. It was the running joke that we'd know when we were almost to the top when I started to cry. I always knew I was going to make it but there'd be some really loud voices in my head saying "what the hell are you doing? you're not this person! you're not in shape! you're pathetic!" I ignored them and honestly, focused my frustration on J, secretly. He'd be cruising along up ahead and I'd think "damn you! damn you for pushing me and wanting me to be somebody that I'm not". And everytime he'd considerately stop and offer water I'd almost burst into flames "you condescending ..." Knowing full well I was only mad at myself and that it was welling up and soon it would come pouring out. And then there we would be, some beautiful mountain, sun shining so kindly down and my face wet with sweat and tears and my body hyperventalating because I'd held it in along with my breath for the last quarter mile up. J would want to laugh, not meanly just knowing how close we were and that I wouldn't want to mention the break down the rest of the day and how proud and happy I'd be at the top and how high I'd feel all the way down.

I made it, of course, and the second I did I felt fine. Absolutely fine, my wobbly legs seemed to strengthen, my composure returned. We stopped, breathed, enjoyed the view and started back down planning dinner and the next day. How far away that summit is now and any of the frustration or pain. I imagine that's (a little) what birth may be like. It takes place during one day (hopefully just one) and it's a marathon and more and you take your tiny steps in it probably not so sure that you really can make it until you do. And it's over and all of a sudden it's a part of your past.

So, where are we hiking next weekend?

How does that make me feel?

This is such therapy I've realized. All this venting and editing and being free to live somewhat uncensored and then realizing you're the only one censoring yourself at all. I do censor what I write on here. I was thinking about that big task of spilling "100 things about me" that I've seen some bloggers take on and I started a list yesterday while working at the cafe. I got to #3 and then I threw out the paper. There's a lot I'm sure I could jot down quickly but could I really come up with 100 interesting and at the same time non-incriminating details of my life that I wouldn't be deathly afraid someone I know might see? I guess not. I'll be trying though for the next however long. It's my newest goal. Ah, to have to goals in life....
Really though, I don't know how long I'll go on journaling here on the world-wide web but it has been my own type of catharsis. I'm not one who's ever allowed myself the indulgence of 'real therapy'. Personally, (and I mean this with complete respect to all the loonies out there who really need therapy) I can't really imagine spending that much money to make someone listen to me whine. I've got J for that and he's free. And now, of course, I've got you. So I'll try to come up with more interesting insights into this random new blogger's life.